by Vicki Hinze
Rex wagged his tail. She crawled up beside him and scratched his ears. Without Charles and Lisa, the house was far too big and empty. Rex felt it too. His bottom line was that he wanted Lisa and Annie in the same space. Anything less and he just wasn’t happy. Truthfully, neither was she.
At straight-up eight, the phone rang. Rex barked and Annie snagged the receiver. “Hello.”
“Mom?”
Lisa. “Hi, darling.” Annie smiled. “Did you make it down okay?”
“We’re not in Orlando. We went to Disney, but Daddy messed up the hotel reservation. He made it for tomorrow, not today.”
“Oh no.” She should have double-checked that. Charles was lousy with the mundane. One of the quirks Annie adored about him. “So where are you guys?”
“In a motel by a big hat. It’s loud here, but the resort man couldn’t find us anywhere to stay, so we drove around until Daddy found this place.”
July Fourth weekend. Not an easy task to find a room with all the tourists in town for the holiday. An incredible amount of racket in the background hurt Annie’s ear. She pulled the receiver away. “Where is Daddy, darling?”
“In the shower. Scrubbing off road grime.”
Rex pawed at her thigh, nudging her to keep scratching his scruff. “So you guys are settling in for the night, eh?”
“Yes, but Daddy isn’t happy about the music.”
“Oh, that’s not the TV?” Annie sank back against the pillows and scratched Rex’s ears. The dog was nearly as spoiled as Lisa.
“It’s off.”
Annie frowned. “So what’s making all the noise?”
“There’s a place across the street that’s got an orchestra.”
A band. Hard rock, from the sounds of it. Charles would definitely hate that. Annie grinned. “Why do you sound winded?”
“Oh, that man’s back, knocking on the door again.” Lisa sounded more annoyed than scared. “Mom, he’s got a spiderweb drawn on his hand.”
“A tattoo?”
“Uh-huh.”
Wait. The man was back? Alarmed, Annie sat straight up. “Lisa, do not open that door.” She tried to keep panic out of her voice, but her throat was clenched-fist, white-knuckle tight. “Go get Daddy, darling.”
“Just a second. The man is saying something to me through the window.”
“What?” Rex perked his ears, lifted his head from her lap—a terrible sign. “What’s he saying?” Was there a fire in the building or something?
“It’s time for you to become a shrub.” Lisa sounded baffled. “What does that mean?”
Become a shrub? Definitely a nut case. Whatever was going on sounded bad and felt worse. “Go get your dad. Do it right now, Lisa Marie!”
A loud crackle ripped through the phone. Something cracked. Splintered. Scuffled. Shattered.
Lisa screamed.
“Lisa!” Annie jumped out of bed. Growling and baring his teeth, Rex barked. “Lisa, answer me. Lisa!”
The line went dead.
Annie’s blood ran cold.
Yesterday was no longer an ordinary day.
1
July 2007, Iraq
M ark Taylor hated sand.
He’d hated it before coming to the desert for the tenth time in three years, but now buried in it, he really hated it. It got into everything, everywhere—in his boots, along with the scorpions; in his eyes; in his ears. Its grit was always clinging, chafing his skin.
As irritating as it was to his team, the sand was even harder on their equipment. Every man in his unit and Jane, the lone female attached as mission essential because she was a subject-matter expert, protected their weapons as best they could. Their lives depended on it.
Sensitive equipment repairs were left to other experts. When they had their heat source–detecting equipment and it worked, they ruled the night. Unfortunately, they had arrived, the equipment had not, and the honchos had classified immediate action critical. Under direct orders, they’d left the Green Zone without it to do the impossible on sheer guts, determination, and a wing and a prayer.
They’d succeeded at taking out the terrorist cell and gathered data that could help Intel save lives. Overall, execution of their plan had gone smoothly. But five klicks from their rendezvous exit point, they hit a snag. A big one.
Two Humvees of hostiles sped toward each other down the road the team was to follow.
“I thought this road was abandoned,” Joe said.
“Obviously not,” Tim whispered. “Gentlemen, scatter.”
Mark tapped his lip mic. “Six, where are you?”
“Three-Point Charlie,” she said. “On point, sir.”
Jane was on schedule, the other men had disappeared from his sight, but Mark’s luck ran out. The hostiles halted about fifty meters in front of him.
He dropped back, well out of the beam of their headlights, dug in, and prayed they hadn’t seen him. Even his breathing seemed magnified, echoing across the desert floor. Stealth movement when digging in yourself and a sixty-pound pack didn’t go hand in hand.
He waited, shallowing his breath, watching … Noting no signs that they were aware of him, he stilled, his heart thumping against his ribs.
Long minutes later, Mark adjusted his lip mic and whispered, “Delta Three, you read me?”
“Loud and clear, bud,” Sam responded. “Where are you?”
Seven minutes and two klicks short of where he should be. “Detained.” Mark craned his neck and squinted to see. Weak moonlight was to his advantage, and he was grateful for it. Both Humvees had .50 cals mounted on them. Outgunned, his team needed all the help it could wrangle to get out of this alive.
“Two vehicles. Parked fifty meters off the tip of my nose.” He didn’t dare check his watch for the GPS coordinates. The Humvees faced each other on the road. One man inside each vehicle stood, and they talked back and forth between them. He couldn’t make out their words, but they didn’t seem anxious or excited.
“Window’s closing, bud.”
“Routine patrol. Eight hostiles. Dug in.” Mark was out of position and late. The chopper would arrive in minutes. It couldn’t linger; it’d be spotted for sure. “Is Six clear?”
He’d met Jane in advanced intelligence training four years earlier, and she’d become the little sister Mark never had, a spitfire with attitude and the smarts to back it up. He loved her, pure and simple, not that he’d ever told her. She loved him too as a brother, not that she’d ever told him. They’d just drifted into a makeshift family. Natural, considering her birth family ranked about as low on the lousy scale as his.
“Not yet,” Sam said. “Everyone else is still on the move.”
Worry streaked up Mark’s backbone, stung the roof of his mouth. “Last report?”
Had she run into trouble at Three-Point Charlie? Mark unclenched his muscles, forcing them to relax. Fear had a distinct smell. It carried on the wind, and anyone who’d been in combat conditions longer than a week recognized the scent. Jane knew how to take care of herself. She was capable and competent.
Please, let her be all right.
No answer from Sam.
He was worried too. It’d been too long since her last report. She was overdue verifying clearance, and Sam didn’t want to tell Mark. But his silence said it all.
Mark’s worry grew more urgent. He diverted his focus to calm down. Not staying calm under any kind of pressure wasn’t an option; it invited mistakes. Mistakes on covert missions infiltrating enemy territory assured death—your own if you were lucky. Your own and others if you weren’t.
Mark inhaled the night air, blessedly cool compared to the day’s scorching hundred twenty degrees and relentless sun. He was supposed to meet Jane at Three-Point Charlie ten minutes ago, then they were to make the rendezvous point and join the others for their ride home.
He glared at the men in the Humvees. For pity’s sake, move it.
The hostiles had become adept at spotting men in the night desert. Mar
k had become better at evading them. On his stomach, buried in sand, they’d have to be hunting him to see him. They still weren’t. That was good news.
He and the team had managed to avoid detection the entire mission and execute their orders. While they all had been trained to kill, whenever possible they avoided it. Just slipped in and out under the radar, and often under the hostiles’ noses.
“Six reporting in,” Jane’s voice sounded through his earpod. Her tone was shrill, rushed. “One, what’s your ETA? Company could be coming.”
Mark checked the Humvees. No movement yet. “Dug in. Need a diversion.”
No response.
Mark tried another. “Four?” He waited, but Tim didn’t respond. “Five?” Where was Joe?
“Off point,” Joe said. “Heading to Three-Point Charlie.”
“Two,” Mark tried Nick, then Tim again, “Four, I need a diversion—now.”
No answer.
Mark’s skin crawled. “Three, where is everybody?”
“Communications are up, bud,” Sam said. “Two and Four activated radio silence. I’m out of reach. Five’s hauling it to back up Six. Diversion presently impossible.”
If communications were up and a diversion was impossible because Nick and Tim weren’t in a position to speak, then they were either hiding or dead. With the bean counters giving the team a forty percent success-and-survival rating on this mission—with the right equipment—and their being without it, they could be either.
“One, they’re closing in on me.” Jane’s breathing sped up, turned tinny and crackled static. “Closing in—fast. Digging in. Not going to make it. Oh God, help me.”
If Mark didn’t move, Jane would die. If he did move, they both would die. Yet this was Jane. Jane. Mark had to try. Every muscle in his body tensed, preparing to move. He lifted an arm, cleared the sand.
“Stay put, One,” Sam ordered, knowing Mark well. “You hear me, bud?”
Gunfire erupted in Mark’s earpod.
“Aw, no. No.” Joe’s voice cracked.
Sam cursed.
And then came silence.
Mark’s throat went tight, his chest tighter. “Six?” He forced his voice to work. Tears streaked down his face. “Six?”
Jane didn’t answer. Please, please, please.
“Think steel, bro,” Joe said. “Nothing we can do to help her now.”
No. Joe had to be wrong. “You sure?”
“I’d give everything I’ve got not to be.”
Mark swallowed hard. Oh, Jane.
“Lousy shots.” Joe grunted. “Gunfire pattern was random.”
“You mean they were just shooting to be shooting?” Sam sounded as galled as Mark felt.
“No rhythm or rhyme, bro.”
Sam cut loose a string of curses.
Mark interrupted. “Are they coming after her?” If targeted, they would definitely verify whether or not she was dead.
“No. The rats are departing the fix. I don’t think they even saw her.”
Jane. Killed by a random shot. It took everything in Mark to hold his position. But Joe was right. It was too late to move. Only God could help Jane now. Mark mourned. Think steel. Think steel. Think—
“It’s not your fault, One.” Joe’s deep voice sounded cool and controlled.
It was his fault. His mother’s death, for which his father and brother blamed Mark his whole life, hadn’t been his fault. She died giving birth to him. But this … this was Mark’s fault. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Random or deliberate, Jane suffered the consequences. It was that simple.
Finally the Humvees sped off. One went in the direction it had been facing, away from the Green Zone. The other looped a U-turn on the road and fell in line behind the first one.
Mark shoved at the sand. “Moving out.” He ran full speed toward Three-Point Charlie, adrenaline pumping through his veins, screams boiling deep in the back of his throat. Sweat dripped from his brow and stung his eyes. His lungs burned, his side stitched and settled into an ache. He buried the pain deep and kept running.
“Four.” Tim reported in. “Quarter klick from rendezvous point.”
“Two. Arrived at rendezvous,” Nick said. “Chopper is two minutes out.”
Tim and Nick were on point. A stream of half-formed phrases and stilted, shuddered words said all that needed saying about Jane. Mark checked the GPS on his watch. Another minute.
It was the longest minute of his life. But finally he arrived at Three-Point Charlie. Joe and Sam heard him approach and spun toward him, their weapons raised. When they recognized Mark, they lowered their barrels.
Jane lay between them at their feet.
Sam wept.
Regret burned deep in Joe’s eyes. “I’m sorry, bro. I tried but I couldn’t get here in time.”
“My fault. I should have been here.” Mark dropped to his knees beside her, huffing, struggling to even out his breathing. He pressed his fingertips to her throat, checking her carotid for a pulse.
“There isn’t one.” Joe swiped at his face with his sleeve.
Mark knew it, but he had to check anyway. Gunshot wounds peppered her entire chest, soaked it in blood. Jane had died before she hit the ground. Mark’s heart split in two. He lifted her into his arms. “Let’s go.”
“You can’t take her, bud.” Sam touched his arm. “Despite what Joe said, they had to know she was here. They’re suffering a bullet shortage. They’re not going to burn thirty rounds just for kicks. They’re just lousy shots. If they don’t find her body, they’ll come after—”
“I am not leaving her.” Mark glared at Sam.
Calm as always, Joe stepped between them. “She’s coming home. Move it—now.”
They started running across the desert floor, made it to the rendezvous point, and met up with Tim and Nick. Within seconds, the thump of chopper blades split the dark silence, then the craft hovered just beyond them, kicking up sand that salted bare skin and even through camo stung like fire. A shadowy soldier stood in the side-door opening, scanning the area with his weapon.
The team jumped onboard, and the chopper lifted.
“Let me have her, sir. Maybe it’s not too late.” A medic took Jane to the open area behind them, and Mark started to follow.
A second medic stepped between them. “Take a seat, sir. We’ve got her now.”
Mark sat, keeping an eye on the medics. They both worked hard to revive her, and they did it knowing as well as Mark that their efforts were a lost cause. Did they try for Jane or for her team?
Either way, it was too late. Jane had bled out in seconds. She hadn’t had a chance.
Tears stung Mark’s eyes. The back of his nose burned, and an ache cinched his heart in a tight fist. He’d never hear her laugh again. Never hear her introduce him to her friends as her favorite big brother. Never look into her eyes and see her looking back at him with affection.
I can’t stand this. God, why did You let me love her and fail to protect her? I can’t take—
“You okay, bro?”
Mark glanced from Jane to Joe. Of all the guys, Joe and Mark were closest. Sam, Nick, and Tim all sat staring at them. They too had red-rimmed eyes. “No, Joe, I’m not okay.” Jane was gone. Dead. He’d killed her. “I’m not okay, and I am never doing this again.”
Barely thirty, Tim swiped a hand at his temple, ruffling the premature gray salting his brown hair, and leaned forward. “Don’t make rash decisions. We’re all hurting right now. Give it time.”
No amount of time would fix this. “I wasn’t there and she’s dead.” His throat thickened. He swallowed hard. “When the chopper hits the ground, I’m putting in my papers.”
The guys studied one another, and then Sam shoved off his helmet and hung it on his knee. “You realize that leaves our team two short. The brass isn’t going to drop a guy in, bud.”
Mark wouldn’t be replaced. The team would be expected to function short. The Shadow Watchers were an elite, highly speci
alized unit, and its members’ skills were cumulative. It’d take at least two years to get a new man qualified to take on their kind of missions and cleared by Intel to do them. And that’s if they put the new recruit on the fast track, learning the systems they created and destroyed.
“Sorry. I’m done. I won’t risk killing another one of you.”
The chopper blades’ steady whap, whap, whap filled the silence.
Tim stared beyond the group to Jane, paused a long time, and then swerved his gaze back to Mark. “It could have been any of us. Nick and I weren’t in a position to help her either.”
“I was her primary backup.” Mark dangled his helmet between his spread knees, swinging it by its strap.
“We’re a team, bud,” Sam said. “We all watch each other’s backs.”
“I failed.”
“Yeah, you did.” Joe cut through the clutter. “Due to circumstances beyond your control, you failed. So did the rest of us. We all risk failing each other every time we go out. You know it. Jane knew it. We all know it. She’s gone, and we have to live with it.” Joe softened his voice. “She was like your little sister. I get that. But you don’t get exclusive rights on the guilt, bro. There’s plenty to go around.”
Mark opened his mouth to object.
Joe lifted a hand to halt it. “We’re sorry we lost her, Mark. If we could change it, we would. But we can’t.”
“Dang right.” Sam shoved his fist into their inner circle.
One by one they all bumped knuckles, then Tim said, “You had to hunker down. That’s how these missions go. Stuff comes up. We deal with it as best we can. Sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we don’t. Jane’s regular team goes through the same thing.”
“We’ll have to tell them.” Mark hated the thought of it, but he couldn’t let them find out through official channels, especially Omega One. They were close.
“When we get to the Pentagon, we’ll tell them together.” Joe stared at the back of the guy manning the side door. The dread on his face was as fierce as Mark’s.
Tim stared at Jane a long minute, then resolve slid down his lean face. “I’ve had enough of this too. We’ve done our share and then some.”
